


We Were Sitting In The Car With The Radio On

by DISCHORDIA



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Masturbation, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, josh's super mysterious, there are a lot of stuff from heavydirtysoul music video and lyrics, they're both nuts and fucked up, tyler's is an addict with a pen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 03:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9949739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DISCHORDIA/pseuds/DISCHORDIA
Summary: 'You're a bit of a lonely bastard, aren't you?' the guy interrupts him.What a fucked up question to ask?'Yeah," Tyler answers, 'I guess I am.’Tyler could fuss and swear or try to punch him because for some reason it hurts. But the point is he’s too tired to fight and too irritated to prove something to some mean punk at the gas station.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys
> 
> can't tell if this a really dark story but i'll apologize in advance. i'm sorry. also, there are descriptions of depression, anxiety and self-harm; in case you can be triggered.
> 
> pls if you find any mistakes (i'm sure that you will) write me: english isn't my native language, so it's kinda difficult to write perfectly straight away
> 
> thanks
> 
> have a great day :>)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

The fuel column smells like burned down damp pile mixed with the cheapest perfume from Walmart. The engine purrs quietly while Tyler walks back to the car, keeping his hood on. Cold night is horrific, silent as Hell, though, soothing and motherlike.

Tyler is too tired to move and hyperactive for writing. His chapped moleskin is probably under one of the seats somewhere on the stadium. He’ll drive there on the way to… to what exactly? Whatever. He doesn’t want to think about it now among all these hollow fields and black trees, crooked up on the way down the road. They look like rotten teeth. They look like teeth Tyler would have if he was a drug addicted. He isn't.

But this for certain would help.

There are no light on the corners of the gas station. There are no people. The whole picture, both dark and alarming, makes him anxious while he’s filling up his car.

‘Like in a bloody horror movie,’ Tyler murmurs.

There is no one inside mini market but the old, almost dead cashier. Tyler would run away as fast as he could only if there wasn't need for damn gasoline. He has to stand here and wait, listening to gurgling fuel inside the hose, otherwise he won't make it to home. There are cereals, Mario Kart and a bunch of music sheets: he can compose ode to loneliness or something.

Tyler isn't crying, but he's not capable of keeping calm. He wants to die here, right here, so badly that all his body’s aching.

He wants to go home.

Five red scratches cross his neck below the jaw. He starts the car, pressing the ON button on the car radio board. Tyler fantasizes how it would be good to finally pull off the steering wheel...

The sound is loud, slipping away through closed windows when the car moves from the fuel station.

Some creepy boy is filling a petrol can on the column.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

On the way from work next time, Tyler goes to buy cola to the same place. He actually has no options, so he gets the change and the bottle, opening it on the way. Tyler wish he could use something stronger than that, but he has to drive the damn car.

It’s cold in the vehicle’s interior, making Tyler feel even shittier after long working day at the newspaper, which he hates to be in, because Tyler doesn't even write anything. And what is the point of writing without sharing it with people anyway? The sound of the tires on wet pavement drowns him inside heavy thoughts when Tyler notices the same guy in a bright red cap, standing near the column again.

The strong feeling of deja vu makes him swallow hard; only this time Tyler is sure there was no car or bike in sign.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

‘My imagination,’ Tyler mumbles, taping fingers on his backpack, ‘I don’t know, Chris. This doesn't make any sense!’

‘Yes, it does. Try harder.’

Black moleskin drops on the tile; everything’s so filthy in the public bathrooms, Tyler has no idea why they are talking here.

‘I’m doing fine,’ insist Tyler. ‘I’m trying my best and this is still—‘

‘Yeah, this is not good enough. I am deeply sorry. You should try next time: ask me for help, ask Mark,’ there are loud splashes of chlorine water. ‘People don’t want to read about suicide and depression all the time, and you write only dark stuff. I’m not talking about articles but about poetry, too.’

‘My poems aren’t for public display,’ barks Tyler.

‘If you want us to compose songs with this lyrics, they will be, ‘cause our shit shouldn't affect suicide rates.’  
  
The mall is overcrowded, cracking from the pressure inside of it; being full of dead cells, splitting down the middle, causing a big bang inside Tyler’s brain. Chris shakes his head.

‘Man, look, I like your ideas. I really do, just try to make your concepts less… hopeless.’

‘How on Earth do I do that?!’

‘Well, you are genius! Do something: stop being depressed: fuck someone, meet your friends…’

‘Can I meet _you_ on the weekend? Tyler is passive-aggressive, looking terribly hurt and furious. Salih keeps silent, walking towards the door.

‘Dude, Krista wouldn't be glad, it’ll be sort of a date. Maybe next time?’

‘Oh, sure,’ mocks Tyler, biting the inside of this cheek. Chris waves him and disappears outside.

What a prick, thinks Tyler, kicking trash can a couple of times.

After going to the club and getting fucked, he writes poem with detailed description of the rotten human meat, dark basement and wonderful family of cannibals; and guess who plays the victim in his imagination? _Exactly_.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

On Wednesday Tyler’s fired and broke. He leaves the office without his favorite mug, sends voice message for Chris and Nick, groaning them his get the fuck out of my life story. Tyler is damn pleased with himself.

To tell the truth, he appears to be totally busted when he calls old friends, waving them goodbye with his middle finger on FaceTime. Tyler giggles so hard that he starts crying, stumbling into gas station mall near small shopping centre.

Wrapped in silence, he wants to get Red Bull or a gun. The second would be wonderful, but as far as Tyler knows people don’t sell such kind of things among the toilet papers and rubber gloves. His vision is blurred as if Tyler is walking through thin fog right now, clutching to the walls and shelves. The world around him is swinging; and there must be the ground, which Tyler can not see until he bumps into something solid and huge.

‘Hey, easy,’ man’s scolding, thought having a soothing voice. ‘Stop.’

Tyler feels shitty, tripping over this boy, he seems to lose coordination completely. His head is a little dizzy, and boy’s face is swirling so fast with this bright yellow hawk of his, Tyler can throw up right here.

‘Wow, man, you’re burning!’ words come out a bit slower than Tyler excepted. He sees widely opened hazel eyes when he slams the place he believes to be source of the flame, trying to put the fire out. He slaps the guy in the face.

‘Shit, stop! Are you high?’

‘No,’ Tyler pulls back amused, looking around; there is no one at the mall. ‘I’m a firefighter, so I protect you!’

‘Look, don’t wanna disappoint you, but you’re mostly moron, not a firefighter,’ his eyes glow alarmingly as if he’s on the edge already.

Tyler smells gas and aspen ash, when the boy hovers over him squinting. He has seen him, Tyler knows this for sure, however, his mind can’t think clearly.

There is a knife in guy’s pocket.

‘Did you buy here a knife? I want one, too. Can I also have a gun?’

The man is uncomfortable, frowning at him.

‘I didn’t buy that knife here.’

‘What for did you buy it?’

‘What?’

‘Why are you carrying a knife?’ he comes closer, whispering in a hush tone, ‘Are you a serial killer?’

Tyler sorta cracks him up.

‘I don’t want to kill ya.’

‘Then what for?' Tyler insist.

The boy now practically giggles with his low cracked voice. Tyler doesn't regard this question so funny. Apparently, his new acquaintance does.

'If you buy knifes, this doesn't prove you to be a serial killer,' he sounds really serious, scratching the tip of his nose with dirty index finger. ’Chill, dude. I'm not gonna like burn you.'

Tyler gasps choking on swears and other questions. This man looks like a bloody serial killer: there are no such sickly-sweet people. Tyler is curious, but hides his shyness behind bitchy comments. Turns out Punk Guy isn't very different from Tyler; and somehow his look makes him sober up enough to remember a face with a yellow halo.

'Man, mind your own business,' the guy sounds furious, grabbing the gas can.

That night Tyler sleeps on a bench in the park near the gas station.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Then a week later, Tyler notices the creepy guy near the fuel column on the Columbus outskirts. He doesn't remember much from night he was drunk, only that maniac with yellow hair was spooky, and he has made a fool of himself. As usual.

Again there is no one to be seen around as if punk boy stalks him or something, but maybe this is a coincidence. Either way Tyler is attracted by him, by all aura of mystique around him. Tyler, honestly, would be glad to talk to him, to learn something about him because such kind of people are rare in the real world. There are only a bunch of fake hypocrites in the natural city habitat, trying to get attention and show how unique they are. But this one is different.

So, parking his car, he thinks that he wants to write a story about someone like this boy.

The first thing to see is distended veins in his arms, catching an eye in the dim light. He is filling up green gas can when Tyler creeps into his personal space, watching him with bowed head. It must look terrifying. Tyler doesn't care.

‘You don't even have a car. I don’t get why you need gasoline.’

This is not the best way to start a conversation.

‘Why the hell you give a fuck?’ snarls he, bouncing his head up and down to close caps of his gas can and suddenly Tyler start to imagine how wonderful it would be to see this yellow hair as blurry spot while blowing him.

Tyler wants to play sassy.

‘You exhilarate me, such a weirdo. It’s a lifetime chance to meet crazy loner, visiting every petrol station in the city. Why do you do that? Are you really nuts?’

He plays with fire, Tyler knows that, this boy can get the stick off him with one punch but he dominates now, at least he thinks so.

Until punk guy looks up.

‘I’m a gasoline vampire, we drink gasoline instead of blood. But sometimes there is no choice and people are not so gross.’

‘What the he-‘

‘And you,’ he interrupts him, 'You're a bit of a lonely bastard, aren't you?'

What a fucked up question to ask?

'Yeah," he answers, 'I guess I am.’

Tyler could fuss and swear or try to punch him because for some reason it hurts. But the point is he’s too tired to fight and too irritated to prove something to some mean punk at the gas station. Besides, he is fascinated by him. So, he keeps silent when the boy starts walking away into the shadow, made like a dark castle from gnarled branches. Tyler feels himself shitty — not a big surprise — thinking about blades again.

‘I’m glad I didn’t knock you out last time,’ the guy says, not even turning to look back.

‘Wow, what an honor. Am I special?’ Tyler tries to mock him in a cynical sort of way.

He hears the guy chuckles, and the sound of his voice in the night gives him goose bumps.

‘Yes, you are,’ he seems so vanish in the dark when Tyler hears quiet. ‘I’m Josh, by the way.’

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

There is a weird nightmare on Monday: the picture of Tyler, left alone in the mall. He can't recall the exact reason or time, but he still can feel the vomit of pain and wrath overflowing his chest. There are so many people, different and indifferent — they probably see him, and no one comes to comfort him, to pet him. He wasn't taught to take care of himself; he still feels useless.

He's still just a cursed kid.

And tonight Tyler doesn't have dreams, except this picture of himself standing in sharp-yellow entrance, crying and lonely. So, when he wakes up sobbing, Tyler wonders if salted wound becomes a scar forever, are tears we spit on our hearts make them ache without a break?

He wants to distract and watches SNL, then puts the radio on, try to fry an egg and gets ashes on the skillet. He is crying all the way through, using Celine Dion’s old songs and breaking news about burned houses in his neighborhood as soundtrack to his isolation. And it is fine.

Tyler won't go to the labour exchange today. Jesus, only not today.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Tyler has been thinking about that accident every day since he came home on Sunday.

Is he really a lonely bastard?

Is it really loneliness, of a hurting kind, if you crave for it? Tyler’s wondering, gaze into the ceiling, arms crossed. He’ve got a migraine today, such a bad migraine he’d gladly blow his brains all over these virgin-white walls; he is already dirty, not like everyone around him, not in the way anyone could know. Tyler himself isn't sure how far that has gone; the trace of his madness seems to be lost along the way; but Tyler can’t say he wants to find it. He’s not waiting for the day to feel good and happy again. Can it be called an addiction?

A Lonely Bastard puts far behind in the void inside his skull, covering it with black copped velvet, when he settles down for Netflix.

Tyler is restless the whole week: he sleeps for three hours per day and throws up every time he tries to eat something more convenient than a slice of pizza. It really does scare him. The rain outside is raging along with his fear and anxiety. Does depressed worthless fuck is written on Tyler’s forehead with neon letters? He can’t help but waling because of his nonentity when Mark calls him and invites to Taco Bell, Tyler shrills, ‘Fuck off’ into the phone and burying his head into the blanket.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

A month has passed already. Tyler goes to different gas stations every evening, though he doesn't even need that much gas; he is too hotheaded to admit he wants to see that boy with crazy hair again. He is probably turning into some sort of stalker.

Tyler still cant force himself to write.

Therefore he picks up guys and girls, depending on his wish to fuck or to be fucked, getting laid every night. There is no money left to pay rent, to buy food; so he survives on cocktails and M&M’s his friends share with him. This Thursday is not very special.

Tyler got used to pull his pants off everywhere, and he doesn't feel uncomfortable, pressed to the cold brick wall while skinny girl strokes him in lazy motions. It’s nice to feel someone else’s hand and throat every night; but Tyler actually cant find what he’s looking for: no new ideas, no sex of a lifetime. He shuts his eyes and can’t wait this all to end.

Tyler wants to go home.

‘You taste good,’ more saliva from swollen lips is dripping down her chin. She is loathsome and too slow, but Tyler doesn't want to hurt her; so clutches his fists to prevent himself from pulling her hair, and make her swallow deeper. There are tears in the corners of her eyes already, she stares at him all the way through, and he feels himself such a jerk. Tyler wasn’t even horny, he just needed to waste some time.

His gaze is wandering on the back yard, thrashing about bushes and pieces of iron-wire hedge; dead silence is revealing around when Tyler catches a glimpse of movement in the distance.

Tyler is anxious for some reason; the girl doesn’t seem to hear any strange sounds like susurrous footsteps.

Then he sees yellow spot among the trees in the dark.

‘I need to go,’ mumbles Tyler, pushing the girl away. He zips up his pants, leaving the girl speechless on her knees.

Black skies are pushing on him, the wind scratching his lungs, and at that moment Tyler doesn’t think how stupid he would look when he will draw upon Josh. His mind goes blank as soon as Tyler smashes into a thick trunk of the tree.  
  
There is no Josh to be seen. There is no Josh at all.

But Tyler is there, watching constellation of starts, at the edge of a shady groove, touching bulky bark with his fingers.

He's going crazy, being obsessed with Josh — whom doesn't even know — just because he showed a bit of interest. Tyler wants to believe Josh somehow will help him through his life. What a bullshit.

And there are first words overcoming his writer's block.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

  
In the morning Tyler is sleepy and stove up. The touching of his blanket makes him curl inside ten layers of fabric and try to fall asleep again when he hears screams and noise from the stairwell.

There are all his neighbors, watching that big guy from the fourth floor, catching teen by the throat; everyone is silent, watching, waiting for something. All eyes are on them, and Tyler wants to smash his head against the wall, because this man can kill the boy.

Somehow an unconditional fear in victim’s eyes triggers Tyler, makes his remember Zack — palms are sweaty and vision is blurred — but he doesn’t hurry up to flung himself in front of the child.

‘What the fuck?’ the man barks.

Tyler stands among other neighbors, begins to shake but tries to seem calm.

Someone calls from the crowd, ‘Relax, man. This is just a kid. You’ll kill him.’

‘I’ll kill this motherfucker,’ he smiles in a maniac manner. ‘I’ll give this bastard a lesson.’

The sand, red sand, is in Tyler’s hands, and unbearable bawls are inside his head killing him, drowning him in reminisces when he wakes up from being numb for too long and feels guilt.

People around are so quiet. Tyler is so skinny. This is right to stand and watch. Like everyone else.

‘I want him to explain why the fuck he siphoned all the oil out of my car,’ a kid behind Tyler is so terrified he can’t even cry. ‘You, little bastard, tell me! Explain your fucking self!’

A squeaking’ s coming from behind Tyler’s back, ‘I didn’t do that… I didn’t!’

‘I’ve seen him there! I’ve spent so much money and this-‘

‘Clam down, he said he didn’t do that,’ Tyler has no idea why do you even do this. Does he feed up with life? Well, actually yes, but not to be beaten to death by some stoner from the floor above.

‘He stood near my fucking car!’

‘There was a guy, another guy with a fuel can. I knew he doesn't live here, so wanted to ask him who he was because this obviously wasn’t his car and- I swear, I didn’t do that! Please don’t beat me! Please!’

Tyler crosses his arms. He feels like shit because he can’t stick up for the kid. God, what a coward. He hates himself more than ever right now.

‘What did he look like?’

‘I didn’t see his face! I only remember his crazy hair! Yellow hair! And he got that red cap.’

‘Fucking nonsense! Have you ever seen people with yellow hair?’ the man chuckles. ‘Next time make up something better.’

‘Please,’ man’s fist lands on the crying face.

  
Tyler licks his lips.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

‘I’m pleased to see you again,’ Josh greets him in Walmart, two months have been since their last meeting. Tyler drops a bottle of milk.

He is silent for a moment, studying his old acquaintance: Josh looks fine, not so aggressive as that night on the gas station, he definitely lost some weight but still is wearing the same shrunk shirt and pants. Is he homeless? Is he an illusion now, Tyler wonders.

He’s freaking out but trying to play it cool.

‘I’m shook. Didn’t think creepy boys visit ordinary supermarkets in a broad daylight.’

Josh smiles, ‘It is evening already. I wasn’t be so sure of my safety in vain.’

Tyler forces false laugh, putting milk down in the shopping card. He feels uncomfortable, almost naked emotionally, because now he isn't the sassiest of them two and obviously isn't the scariest. What a luck to see a gasoline vampire again, at the mall, after borrowing twenty dollars from ex-colleague to buy first normal food in the last month. All the money have been wasted three weeks ago.

He wants to die, yes, but he still wants to eat; and Tyler has no clue how this is working.

He is tired and weak, eager go home and write another poem about suicide or self-harm, thanks to the incident on the backyard near the wood, he has no writer’s block now because he doesn't give a fuck. What’s the point anyway? If Tyler has not become popular already, he probably can’t succeed. So he writes and sings to numb the pain. That’s it.

‘Well, then I better go,’ he admits, going to the opposite direction from Josh.

Surprisingly, punk guy follows Tyler all the way through the Walmart — the silence between them doesn’t feel uncomfortable. At least, for Josh. For Tyler it’s scary to hear from person who conquered your imagination and then disappeared like evening fog above the swamp.

‘I’m glad you acknowledge this,’ Tyler turns around near the street lamp expecting Josh to be gone by now, but he is standing there, hair glowing like a traffic light every time Josh moves his head.

‘What?’

Can he read minds? Nonsense.

‘You probably think I’m some kind of stalker and a jerk, which is correct, but only halfway. You are uncomfortable. And I’m not sorry. I think you’d like any company, especially mine. You like me,’ Josh sounds surely as if there can be no other options for Tyler’s attitudes towards him.

‘What an arrogant b—’

‘Yup, I am,’ he finds it amusing, ‘Well, what do ya’ say?’

Tyler scratches his nose, walking away, head’s tilted down, he says, ‘Okay.’

There is surprise on Josh’s face.

‘Didn’t expect you to…’

‘Yeah, fine,’ Tyler interrupts. ‘Let’s go.’

Tyler has no clue why he came over here, why Josh seems so divine to him because from six feet away Tyler can smell his heavy dirty rotten soul. Josh is homeless psycho, obsessed with death. Just like Tyler.

And as if he knew what Tyler is thinking about, Josh gives him a smirk, clutching his cap.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Boy in the red balaclava in front of this old-fashioned typewriter must be looking completely insane. Soft clicking sounds creeping under the carpet, Josh shivers, Tyler can see that, tracing his shocked gaze.

Honestly, Tyler would be in horror to know some spooky guy from the gas station has a wall full of suicidal notes and damn mechanical typewriter which he uses instead of a laptop. Josh should run as fast as he can. Well, if Tyler were Josh he’d run down the hallway and in the forest to clean of the madness. But there Tyler is a dog, not a rabbit.

‘Give a man a mask and he will tell you the truth’, Tyler tries to justify himself, pauses for a second, his fingers flying above the keyboard, ‘The famous quote by Oscar Wilde’.

Josh grins, ‘So this is your concept?’

‘Concept of what?’

‘Of writing, of life. Man, you got all these notebooks, papers everywhere, and you hide a book under the blanket’.

Tyler’s more amazed that hurt by Josh’s arrogant tone, ‘How the f…’

‘I’ve got a very sensitive butt.’

Is he flirting?

‘Oh, I don’t doubt. That’s easy to say by the way you walk, you know…’ Tyler jests nervously wiggling his foot.

‘At least I don’t try to hide this.’  
  
Tyler’s a little wounded, so he fumes, ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You won’t go far without a mask, will you?’ punk guy smiles. Tyler wants to kick him downstairs, which wouldn’t be bad at all: solve all your problems with one shot.

There is gentle exhales and tap-tap-tap melody.

‘So, you didn’t answer the question,’ insists Josh.

Tyler tries to hum a silly melody from this dumb cartoon about little cry-baby fawn, and his dead mother, and flame in the forest, and other pretty dark stuff. He must ignore Josh’s loud breathing and his heart pounding so stubbornly inside this concert box; it reminds Tyler of father which leads to memories of Zack somehow: the way Josh lounges on his couch, playing with the hem of his shirt. Joseph should probably write this down.

Tyler dives into surface of words when there is a rustling steps beside him. Tyler's body tenses when Josh leans forward, placing hot palm on his neck.

‘You can’t fool me with these bambi eyes of yours. I may be a dick, but I’m not dumb.’

He could backchat or make fun of Josh, but Tyler is a bit of a lonely bastard, he's allowed to ignore this not to leave alone. So, he keeps his mouth shut, staring blankly at the wall where is written a lot of words and phrases in circles, vertical lines. There are huge bold letters in the middle of the wall:

**Don't leave me alone**

And the punk guy saw it, Tyler's sure and surprised, when Josh becomes the first to stay.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

‘And how do you distract?’ Tyler asks.

They feel free to discuss odd and dark stuff now, almost living together, well, getting laid definitely. It dazzles Tyler how full of ideas he is now because of Josh, so he tries to give in return something, bit by bit getting naked emotionally as he strips very night.

‘You want to know if I use sex in a way you do?’ Josh chuckles. ‘No, dude, I have loads of other tricks.’

‘Well, impress me,’ jeers Tyler, looking up at Josh, chips in the Pringles can are almost gone.

‘I don’t have to, but if you ask so,’ Josh is leaning on his back, finding this position more comfortable than previous one between Tyler’s arm and the back of the couch. ‘I sleep a lot, eat way too much, sometimes play drums, really helpful, you know, to beat the crap out of this stuff. But when I want to compose new beat or something, I go for it straight away. Being hurt makes you creative.’

‘What else?’ he’s amused.

‘Man, I don’t know…’

Josh never talks about his family or friends, Tyler usually speaks, revealing the most fascinating parts of his childhood except one or two cases; and his new friend is like a giant Black hole: absorbing everything in and never giving back. Tyler pretends that’s it is fine to see each other in the morning and at night, hang out on the weekends, but sometimes it doesn't seem to be fair.

Josh knowing his every step and Tyler having no idea where his roommate is. He ensures himself that this is alright and everybody is allowed to have their secrets and personal space; but actually he wants to learn something about Josh.

‘C’mon, Joshie, hit me with your best shot,’ Tyler bugs, smiling, thought he wants to cry so badly. He’d like to tear his chest apart with his own hands, and the picture of him, leaving deep long scratches on pale skin, calms him down a bit: everywhere he can see only dead dreams and his crazy mind.

Josh doesn’t move, yellow head inclines to Tyler: there is no sigh of gladness in his eyes, only pity and a wish to comfort him, ‘You’re not gonna follow any of my tips anyway’.

Tyler’s throat is so so sore and tight.

‘No, I’m not.’

‘So, what are you going to do?’

Five minutes later Josh is typing on the shabby typewriter a story, Tyler dictates him while crying and jerking off.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

They are sitting in the living room on the carpet, side to side, choosing movies for watching after news in turns: Tyler puts on the old ones and Josh makes them watch episodes of X-files in the right order. Reports about animal shelters and new burned houses in Columbus make Tyler sick.

It’s cold on the floor: Tyler’s freezing hands under Josh’s shirt, drawing twisted lines on his skin. They are watching Donnie Darko now, Tyler is proud of himself to have a chance to enlighten Josh.

Tyler’s chill, comforted by Josh’s breathing above his ear; he thinks about world to be not so shitty and their relationships with Josh so heterosexual. There is nothing new, just a break from suicidal thoughts for a couple of hours; but he must give it up for Josh: this is the first time he’s watching the most brilliant scene of the movie without razor in his hand.

‘Why are you wearing that stupid bunny suit?’ asks Donnie on the screen, drawing Frank’s attention, and Tyler glances at Josh, picturing him as a spooky bunny. If they were in Donnie Darko, Josh definitely would have been Frank — it’s obvious — Tyler is more like the main character of the story.

The creepy bunny backchats immediately.

‘Why are you wearing that stupid man suit?’

‘Man, this was…’ Josh’s eyes go wide, ‘this was intense! It’s so…’

‘Sincerely.’

‘Exactly. We’re all wearing these stupid human suits…’

Tyler nods, and for some reason he begins to cry.

At the end of the movie he’s fine again. Well, maybe not as fine as he seems but clearly better. Josh looks pretty bad, moving lips for about ten minutes without making a sound. Tyler has to elbow him once or twice.

‘Josh?’

  
 ‘Have you ever thought about like falling asleep smoking?’ Josh asks in a hoarse voice, being anywhere in his thoughts but not in this place.

‘And what’s the point of it?’

The guy lets out an ominous chuckle, there are white sparkles mixed with ashes in his eyes, ‘You’d die, stupid thing. Set yourself on fire.’

‘It’s better than to be squashed by a giant engine anyway,’ Tyler agrees.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

It’s going fine when Tyler gets a job and has five stories in process. It isn’t good at all when Josh comes high home one night, banging at the door, screaming and swearing.

‘Tyler!’ he roars and Tyler has to interrupt his writing to see smiling idiot and skinny boy behind his back.

So there is no false happiness anymore, and even less does it remain when beaten little boy from the first floor recognizes in Josh the guy who caused so many trouble.

And after an hour of moans, blood, drug haze, huge stoner from above and his steal fists Josh ends up laying on the floor soaking wet from sweat and vomit. Tyler sits beside him to hate him and to comfort him because he cries for the first time, choking on words and sniffling.

Tyler is afraid to trigger Josh again, but he asks anyway, and his words feels like a wet dirt based on the moon dust. Josh himself looks like the shattered eight wonder of the world, spitting blood and revealing to be heinous person.

‘Why?’ Josh can barely hear Tyler’s whisper.

‘What?’

‘Why did you do this?’

‘Do what?’ Josh looks at him with a black eye.

Tyler figures something significant in his head, stroking Josh’s shoulder, ‘You’ve burned that house in the neighborhood, where children died, right? And you burned other building that’s why you always going on the gas stations without even having a car. It is dumb, you know? It’s crystal clear that—

‘Oh, you’re a damn genius, Tyler,’ Josh smiles widely and licks drops of blood that appeared on his lips. ‘So when did you get it, Sherlock Holmes?’

He doesn't want to say he get it just now.

‘You killed people, Josh,’ Tyler breathes in awe. ‘You’ve murdered children, and that’s a murder ‘cause you knew what you were doing. You are a murderer!’

Josh has a mess instead of face, and still he manages to look amused as if Tyler told him a very funny joke.

‘How can you live with it? Why did you even do this?’ Tyler wants to cry and smash his head with a rock. He wants to smash Josh, too.

‘The same reason you’ve had when you did that awful thing to lil Zacky.’

Tyler shivers, his soft palms becomes iron-like forceps, Josh moans.

‘Let me go, boy,’ he sounds threatening, Tyler stays in place.

‘I won’t let you free until you tell me all.’

‘Why? To condemn me? Are you the judge? Set me fucking free!’

Tyler knows Josh is stronger and probably can knock him down before Joseph fights back. So he pulls back a bit, Josh lets out a small chuckle before a smirk settles itself on his lips, the next moment leans his head back down, catching Tyler’s lips with his. Despite being together, Tyler can’t recall a single time they kissed: Josh doesn’t like it, so, in fact, this is their first time, and it tastes like salt, blood and night in the wet grass. Tyler is shaking when Josh whispers him into the mouth he knows about Zack, being dug into the sandbox on their playground. He knows Tyler dug up the hole and put an infant inside. He knows his mommy cried while Tyler was laughing, making snow angels on his brother’s childish grave. He knows it all.

Tyler notices tears on Josh’s eyelashes.

‘You were a lonely kid, you were abandoned because of you little brother, and you wanted attention. This wasn't right. You weren’t right. Your Mum was shocked. Daddy was, too. But you were happy at this moment, weren’t you? Did you feel relief? Yeah, it’s hard to accept, but this is the only way: stop hate yourself for things that make you feel good. I feel the same lighting matches. You are a bad person, and I like it.’

This is the longest speech from his friend, Joseph has ever heard and Tyler doesn’t cry, clutching his shirt. He bites thats busted lips of Josh and hears loud exhale. Tyler doesn't care; all wants is to die, he feels so stained with madness and blood.

’It’s just… You can create something only if you destroy it first, do you… Do you get it?’ Josh speaks again.

Tyler does, noticing Josh’s obsession with fire, gasoline and abuse in general. So he nods.

‘I was like this as long as I can remember… and you,’ he leaves red footprints on Tyler’s cheek, ‘you’re the same.’

‘I just… I mean it,’ Josh is crying. Jesus Christ, he’s weeping and smearing out the dirt all over his face. ‘You were so lonely. I was such an abandoned piece of shit and nobody loved me, too. I’ve never loved myself!’

This discovery punches him right between the eyes, Tyler can see that. So, he’s crawls closer, spreading his arms and clasps Josh in them. They both now covered with blood, sweat and dirt.

‘I wanted to be a better… something better,’ whines Josh. He smells like dead trees and vivid waterfalls and happy corpses. Tyler pulls him closer. ‘So I destroyed myself and renew somehow. I never miss old places and people. I miss only my purity, well, occasionally,’ he lets out a chuckle.

Tyler is silent, thinking too much. Josh must help him, now he knows it for sure.

‘Have you ever been like this?’ punk guy sounds bubbled, so honestly that Tyler begins to cry himself. He gets what Josh is talking about. And, of course, the answer is yes.

Tyler’s shaking now; he’d probably try to distract in other circumstances: to jerk off, to eat so much he’d puke his entrails, to let a group of guys fuck him in turns. All he does is clinging at the sleeve of Josh’s hoodie and thinking happily he’s broken as well, thinking he is not alone.

‘Can you help me with this theory of yours about destruction?’

Josh blinks and looks thrilled, ‘What do you mean?’

‘Just promise me.’

He doesn't hesitate, ‘Okay, I promise. What is on your mind?’

Tyler doesn't reply, leaning forward for another kiss.

When the sun flourish with bright rays upon the city, it lets rest in piece two leaving dead, cuddled up on the bloody tiles.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

'Don't be afraid.'

Josh's voice is frustrated but calming. This doesn't work. Tyler is unhappy. Tyler wants to die so badly. So after two or three nights of thinking about it he asks Josh to help him. Mentally.

Late at night they're standing on the rural roadside: Josh touches small lighter Tyler gave him. Although it's cold, Tyler's wearing a plain tank with tiny holes here and there, he's calm almost happy. But Josh seems to be scared to death.

'It's fine, dude,' there's a slight scent of encouragement in his voice. 'This is my choice. It'll make me happy.’

'Corpses can't be happy.'

Tyler grins, standing near the car with a fuel can. The air smells like burning wood and metal already while Tyler can't wait to found himself inside this burning pile.

'At least my soul will be happy. Do you believe in a lot of lives we've all lived?’

'Man, what are talking about? Stop trying to calm me down,’ Josh sounds desperate. He's terrified.

'I don't,' Tyler's lying. ‘Look, you've given me your word. You must help me!'

He actually yells because things shouldn't have turned out this way; Josh must help him, Josh must do him a favor. He can't pull back now.

It's seems Josh's panic’s growing, so he bowls back, ‘I fucking can’t. It's not me, asking you to help with arranging a suicide with style!’

Apparently, it’s not Josh who’s going to dispel his ash under crocked old trees along the road, and thought Tyler must be the one who’s sputtered; Josh screws everything up! Damn him! Tyler doesn't know why he wanted the boy, he has jerked off once, to take part in planning his death. Tyler has no idea, he only feels that’s the right way.

He’d better let Josh fuck him before all this or something, just to help him relax and to say goodbye.

Tyler’s steps are stealthy as he walks back to the car with a gasoline can, he begins to hum something so quietly, after a moment Josh seizes the words, ‘Rain down,’ there are squelch swat every every time Tyler shakes up a fuel can. ‘Rain down and destroy me.’

‘You are a bloody psychopath!’ Josh mind goes blank from fear. He freezes in place.

‘Are you going to help me?  
  
There is no agreement or rejection only new sounds of gasoline, sloping into the machine hood.

So when they’re sitting in the car, eyes shut, blue melody coils from the speakers, and gas is sniffed up through the nostrils, Tyler is so grateful Josh has been silent all these time. He likes him, Tyler likes him, he really does. Turns out punk guy wasn’t a bad person, he was kind to Tyler, always so friendly and outgoing — now there is his stiff silhouette and dying lines of the trees on the background.

They are caught between the seats.

‘I…I guess it’s time,’ Tyler consoles himself that Josh will be fine. He should go home and call the ambulance to make sure Tyler will be found. It’ll be an accident. ‘I’ve brought some books, my books,’ he awkwardly holds out stack of moleskins. ‘There are my poetry, some other stuff, letter for my Mum and Dad,’ Josh stares blankly into the windscreen, ‘and for you, Josh.’

‘I don’t need this shitty piece of paper.’

‘Dude, you will read it later. I’m really thankful, just— Just get out. Please.’

Josh shakes his head smiling, ‘This isn’t the deal. You should say me goodbye in a proper way. I’m not some police officer to read your fake words.’

‘Josh…’

‘Read it to me,’ he looks at Tyler, mr Misty-eyed from anger and feebleness, ‘Fucking read it to me. Read your letter, and I will go home, I promise.’

Tyler can’t.

‘Man, I wish I could b—You should go.’

‘This wasn’t our deal. I won't leave you unless I get a proper goodbye!’

‘Man, fuck off.’

‘Are you sure?’ Josh’s eyes flickers color of dirty grass and sun rays between their blazers.

‘Yeah, probably. Yes.’

So, he must have changed his mind, giving Tyler a lighter, warm from the heat of his palm. Tyler can’t avoid the kiss which follows after, sloppy and bitter, ‘Alright,’ Josh soothes Tyler, getting out of the car, he stops to smile so wide Tyler’s head goes round. ‘See ya’!’

The door slaps.

Tyler doesn't think about what this could possibly mean: there is a new destination for him when he throws the lighter on the front seat.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

‘Man, you scared the shit out of me.’

The forest is catching fire here and there: red and yellow ribbons are stretched to sky; Josh sniffs in the gas and smoke, there also a slight scent of burned hair and skin which comes from Tyler beside him. Josh is lying on his back, spreading arms wide, intertwining fingers with Tyler’s therefore Josh feels as if he was little again, playing inside his trees house, looking how the sunrise was born. Tyler gives him the same feeling, thought now he’s still silent.

‘I know you will hate me for doing this. Don’t try to persuade that you don’t,’ Tyler’s skin sore and warm, so warm it must be burning. Josh recalls the same heat coming from Tyler when they fucked last time. Josh will fuck him when Tyler recovers. Josh can’t wait. He’s so beautiful.

There is no reply from Tyler, only the void of the wrinkled sky through the wadding of smoke and ash.

‘I like you, you know that? I like you to the outmost stars and back.’

He turns his head to look at this psycho, lying senseless; Josh smiles through tears — he managed to take Tyler out of the car after he’d gone faint. Who knows what could be with him him now if Josh didn’t save him from the fire? It was hard to resist the temptation to see him burn.

There was a huge explosion, leaving marks on his arms and serious burn on the back. Josh doesn't feel the pain, drowned in the kaleidoscope of feelings inside blazers of grass. He hears how the fire is cracking around them, he hears how the forest yells for help without a single sound. It’s a destruction. Tyler made it. Josh made it.

‘It wasn’t hard to persuade you do this to yourself. You were unstable and know what? Never trust creepy guys on gas stations,’ a loud laughter cuts through night.

There is a small trickle at the corner of Tyler’s lips, drips running down his chin.

‘Look at the moon,’ suddenly whispers Josh, moves of the dirty arm are calm and fluid, ‘do ya’ see the moon rabbit? This shadow over there. My Mom used to take me outside when the moon was full, and there she always told me how in East Asia was believed the white rabbit lived inside the moon, pounding the elixir of life in a mortar and pestle. It prepared herbs for the immortals,’ Josh laughs quietly as smoke wraps around the stars. ‘I was so young, three of four years old and I asked her to get me some magical elixir, so we could live forever. I was such a stupid little shit,’ Josh rubs his nose. ‘I didn’t understand it was her, oh, it was her all the time, giving me fuel to move one, giving me reasons to believe. I didn’t get it. And then she died,’ Josh sheds tears of anger and grievance, ‘I was alone. I was worthless, Ty, and then you appeared to prove me wrong. You’ve become my new rabbit, and I will never let you slip away. I promise.’

His hands are shaking, Josh’s whole body is trembling from cold inside the devilish heat. Somewhere in the distance a siren wails, this must be police or ambulance or fire fighters. Tyler is till, doesn't move, ashes in his hair.

‘Don’t worry, Tyler, they won’t find us,’ his taught palm fondles Tyler’s jawline. ‘We’re far enough. They won’t find us if you be quiet.’

The stars glowing shyly. Tyler doesn't reply, looking like a pale sculpture now, so magnificent and innocent Josh’s stone hard.

‘Of course, you’ll be,’ Josh chuckles, creeps closer to his fren.

‘Such a _lovely_ moon rabbit,’ Josh leans forward and kisses Tyler’s hot lips, knowing this heat is the rest of the flame in that damn car, this heat does not belong to Tyler, none of it does. Tyler body is growing cold with every second, Josh knows it. Josh is on a cloud nine.

Yes, Tyler didn’t burn. Tyler suffocated thirty minutes ago on the front seat.

And while the sky flourishing with black and grey roses and Josh kissing him, Tyler doesn’t breathe.

 

 


End file.
